


See You Later, Boy

by marcel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, also a celebratory blowjob at one point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marcel/pseuds/marcel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, Niall runs Harry over with a skateboard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See You Later, Boy

**Author's Note:**

> guess who has two thumbs and started this fic in january? THIS GUYYY  
> no actually this is a very late happy-birthday-last-november gift to lauren, bless her.  
> sorry about the spanish because i don't actually know any spanish.  
> thank you allie and somerdaye for beta-ing and reading over bits along the way whenever i had a characterization crisis, and thank you nicole for helping with everything alcohol-related.  
> lauren, i love you, mi tesoro. this is 4 u.

Finals, Harry decides, will be the death of him.

He flips through his notebook as he walks, clicking his pen anxiously. Marketing had been on Wednesday, and World Lit was the day before, so now he just has to get through Philosophy and Spanish, both only a few days apart -- he turns back a page, scribbles down a reminder. If he sets aside the entire weekend for Philosophy, plus a few hours for that paper he forgot to do, he can cover all the material at least once before the test.

Or, at least, he _could_ , if he didn’t also have a Sociology write-up to hand in.

He puts a big X through what he’s written, turns the page, and starts again. He probably should’ve started studying everything back when the exam dates were first posted -- but there was so much new material every week, how was he supposed to find time to look at back the old stuff?

Maybe Mum and Gemma and Louis and everyone at the admissions office are right. Maybe taking five courses in second term isn’t the _greatest_ idea he’s ever had. But he’s made it this far, hasn’t he? It’s April and the second week of finals, and Harry isn’t going to let anyone say ‘ _I told you so_ ’.

Also, he’s written Thursday down twice. He pauses on the sidewalk to scratch it out, and barely registers a voice behind him swearing loudly before something crashes into him and he’s falling over, arms flailing, and landing hard on the pavement.

“Shit,” the voice says, above him now. “You alright, mate?”

Harry pushes himself up on his hands and knees, wincing. What a graceful fall that was, in direct view of the general public. “I think so, yeah,” he says, and takes the hand that’s offered to him, letting it pull him to his feet. He dusts himself off, frowning at the new tears in his jeans. He had managed to hold onto his notebook, at least. “Scuffed my knees a bit. No worries.” He looks up to see who the voice belongs to, and stops.

The boy is blonde and pale and blue-eyed and definitely not dressed for the cold of springtime, in his shorts and sleeveless shirt, but Harry can’t tear his gaze away. His heart is pounding, and not just from the fall. Rubbing the back of his neck, the boy rolls his skateboard - that Harry hadn’t heard coming, somehow - back and forth with one foot.

“Sorry,” he says. “My fault, I wasn’t watching.” He glances up the street, then back at Harry. “Listen, nothing’s broken, right? I’ve gotta run, is all...” Harry manages to nod, but the boy doesn’t look entirely convinced.

“Y’know what, here, lemme--” He snatches the pen out of Harry’s hand and grabs his arm, shoving the sleeve up around his elbow. Harry opens his mouth but forgets to protest, watching the boy scribble down a string of numbers.

“In case y’need to sue me for damages,” the boy says, pressing the pen into Harry’s palm, and then he’s off again, speeding down the street on his board. Once he’s disappeared around the corner, Harry remembers to close his mouth.

\--

“Who,” Louis asks the next day, sprawled on the couch with his feet in Harry’s lap, “is ‘blondie’?”

“Stop going through my phone,” Harry sighs, not looking up from his Spanish notes. “He’s just a guy I met.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “ _Just_ a guy? Or just a _guy_?”

“Those sounded exactly the same.”

“You’re no fun,” Louis says, and goes quiet.

Harry lasts a total of 14 seconds before he slams his notebook shut. “He ran into me on his skateboard and gave me his number,” he explains, ignoring Louis’ smug grin. “That’s it, I promise.”

“And you kept it?”

“Yeah, why not? It makes it more than just another momentary encounter, you know?” He catches himself smiling and tries to hold it back. He definitely hadn’t used his two hours in the library to replay everything the boy said to him. Definitely not. “It’s not like I’m ever gonna call him, or anything.”

Humming, Louis lifts the phone to his ear. “Was he cute, though?”

“I got more up close and personal with the sidewalk than with him,” Harry says, rolling his eyes, but can feel his cheeks going pink. “I didn’t have a lot of time to, like, check him out or whatever-- and who are you calling? You’re on my phone.”

Louis sniffs. “Well, if _you’re_ not going to call him--”

Harry manages to shove him off the couch and pry the phone out of his hand within the first three rings. On the fourth, however (as Harry stands triumphantly on the coffee table), someone picks up.

“Hello? Someone there?” It’s tinny and quiet through the speaker, but Harry can easily picture the blonde boy on the other end. He gives a mangled sort of yell and presses the phone to his ear.

“Y-yes, hello!” Harry says, too loud, and clambers off the table. He ignores Louis, who’s trying to slink off to the kitchen whilst doubled-over laughing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-- I’m gonna just. Hang up. Um. Sorry.”

“Is this Josh?” the boy asks, before Harry can end the call. “Honestly, mate, what--”

“No, it’s, um.” He presses a hand over his eyes. This is probably the worst thing that’s ever happened. “You ran into me yesterday? Like, literally. I fell over, you wrote on my arm-- It’s cool if you don’t remember, I’m just gonna... go. Sorry again.”

“Wait, no,” the boy says quickly. “I remember you.”

A giddy sort of relief washes over Harry, and he finds he can’t quite form words around his smile. “You- um. Okay.”

“Yeah, you were all... curly. And you had that book, and - jesus, are your knees okay?”

He can’t help laughing at that. “I’m not going to take legal action over skinned knees, I promise,” he says, and hears the boy start laughing too. He feels a bit dizzy about the way it rings in his ears. It’s weird, Harry thinks - this already feels a bit familiar.

Something suddenly crashes to the floor in the kitchen, and Harry jumps. The flat is very quiet for a few long seconds.

“Fuck,” he hears Louis say.

Harry sighs.

“I do actually have to hang up, now,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve got a flatmate to throttle.”

“S’alright,” the boy answers, and Harry can picture him shrugging.

“Cool.” It’s once again become the most awkward phonecall of Harry’s entire life. He can’t even say something like ‘talk to you later’, because, will he? “Bye, then.”

He’s about to stop hesitating and take the phone away from his ear when he hears the boy gasp. “Oh! Wait wait wait, just one more thing?”

“Yeah, what?”

“What’s your name?” the boy asks, and Harry grins again. “I don’t want to put this number in under ‘curly guy you owe 20 quid’ or something, y’know?”

“It’s Harry,” says Harry. “Like the prince and the wizard.”

“Nice t’meet you, Harry,” the boy says, laughing a little. “I’m Niall, and I’m sorry for running you over.”

Harry’s cheeks are starting to hurt. “Okay,” he says, a bit dreamily.

“I’ll let you get on with your flatmate, yeah?”

“Um. Yes.” Right. He had a kitchen to rescue. “I’ll... do that.”

The boy - Niall, now - snickers again. “See you, Harry.”

“Y-yeah. Bye.” There’s a soft click as Niall hangs up, and Harry takes a moment to stare at his phone screen.

_Call Ended: blondie_  
 _2:04_

Had that actually just happened? He couldn’t have imagined that entire conversation, right? No, in his head Niall would’ve hung up a lot sooner. And the lilt in his voice wouldn’t have warmed Harry right down to his toes.

He shakes his head, pushing the thought away. A two-minute phone call was nothing to be swooning over. Slipping his phone into his pocket, he joins Louis in the kitchen.

“How’s blondie?” Louis asks.

Harry ignores him. “Why is the kettle on the floor?”

“It fell off the counter when I wasn’t looking. Did you get his name?”

Hesitating, Harry bends down to pick up the now-dented appliance. “Niall,” he says finally, allowing himself a moment to relish how it feels on his tongue. He bites back a smile before Louis notices, placing the kettle back on the counter. “Do you think this’ll still work? The handle’s a bit crooked--”

“Don’t change the subject, Harold,” Louis says, pouting. “What did you two talk about? Does he have honourable intentions?”

Harry rolls his eyes and turns away to examine the broken kettle. His face feels hot. He tries not to think about it. “We’ve only exchanged, like, five sentences,” he points out.

Louis exhales sharply. “So?”

“So,” Harry sighs, “I don’t know anything about him yet.”

“ _Yet,_ ” Louis repeats with a grin, unfazed when Harry turns to glare at him. “Come on, Hazza, he literally swept you off your feet.”

“He knocked me over.”

“Close enough. And you said he was cute.”

“I did _not--_ ” Harry starts, but he’s cut off by his phone chiming in his pocket.

Louis gasps. “Is he texting you? What’s he saying?” He lunges forward, ready to dig through Harry’s pockets, but Harry pulls his phone out and holds it above Louis’ reach.

_1 New Message_  
 _From: blondie_

His stomach does a weird sort of flip.

“Could you, um,” Harry says as he starts backing out of the kitchen, “start on dinner? There’s pasta.”

“Ha _rold_ ,” Louis whines, but Harry is already ducking around the corner into the hallway. Ignoring Louis’ dramatic sigh, he scurries down the hall and into his bedroom, flops down on his bed, and takes a deep breath before opening the message.

_> I’m not serious bout the 20quid, I can prob buy you bandaids or somethin_

He feels a blush creeping up his neck and hides his face in his pillow. He had just told Louis why he _wasn’t_ absolutely stupid about Niall, so why can’t he stop smiling? Rolling onto his back, Harry taps out a response before he can think too hard about it.

_From: Harry_  
 _ > Thanks for the offer, I think I can survive without though. x_

He adds the kiss on the end out of habit, not noticing until the message is already sending, and has a moment of panic. That wasn’t weird, right? He and Louis send each other X’s and O’s all the time. Granted, he and Louis also use every endearment in the book and yell ‘I love you’s whenever either of them leave the flat. And there was that one time that his mum thought they were dating--

Before he can freak out any further, his phone lights up with another text from Niall. Harry holds his breath and opens it.

_From: blondie_  
 _ > Just checkin yknow, itd suck if you got seriously injured after meetin me just once_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > If I need a wheelchair, I promise you’ll be the first one I call._

_From: blondie_  
 _ > Defo. I’ve got my board, we’ll go places_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > That’d be cool. :)_

Was the smiley-face too much? If he’d left it out, would he just sound bored? Harry presses his hand over his eyes. Feigning nonchalance in a text-message conversation is harder than he’d originally thought.

Still, every time his phone chimes with a new message, his heart jumps a little.

_From: blondie_  
 _ > Sweet, lookin forward to it. I’ve gotta go but text me later yeah ??_

Harry’s still smiling when he steps back into the kitchen, and Louis, stirring a pot on the stove, takes one glance at him and smirks knowingly.

“Shut up,” Harry says, trying and failing to look serious.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know what you’re thinking, though.”

“Listen, Harry,” Louis sighs, turning back to the stove, “as long as you weren’t just having phone sex or something--”

Harry cuts him off, spluttering. “I wasn’t!”

“Cool, then. Set the table, would you?”

\--

As Harry leaves the university campus the next day, he’s once again more focused on the book in his hands than where his feet are going. His Philosophy textbook is stupidly thick, but he figures that if he starts right now, he can read through the entire thing in time for his exam on Monday.

How exactly had he made it through midterms? It hadn’t been as bad as this, had it? He’s already decided to spend the entire weekend locked in his room studying, but he still doesn’t feel like he’ll be prepared. Just the thought of looking at the test papers makes him feel sick, like he can’t breathe.

Harry closes the textbook suddenly, slowing his pace and taking a deep, steadying breath. He’ll be fine, he decides. He just needs to calm down and find some peace and quiet, without distractions--

“Harry!”

He drops the book.

By the time it’s scooped up and dusted off, Harry barely has time to look up before Niall is just there, in front of him with a backwards cap on and his skateboard under his arm. He grins when Harry meets his eyes, and wow, okay. Harry’s not sure when braces became a thing he found attractive, but Niall has them, and Harry can feel his heart speeding up.

“Um.” Off to a good start, as usual. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

Niall gives him a weird look, but keeps smiling. “There’s a skate park right here,” he says, gesturing over his shoulder. Harry glances past him and yeah, there’s ramps and rails and a massive halfpipe that he somehow never noticed when he was walking past.

“... Right.”

Niall snickers. “So, how’re you doing?” he asks, looking him up and down.

Harry grins before he can help it. “Is this about my knees again?”

“Maybe,” Niall says, sheepish.

“I’m fine, I promise,” Harry assures him. “It’s just a bit of bruising. No scars, even.”

Niall sighs with relief. “I guess you won’t need these then,” he says, and pulls two bandaids out of his pocket.

Harry laughs, surprised. “Thank you,” he manages to say, and Niall just beams back at him as he reaches out to take them. Their fingers brush, and Harry pretends not to notice. He shifts his textbook to his other arm before tucking the bandaids into his pocket.

“What’s that for?” Niall asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I got out of class a bit ago,” Harry explains, holding the book out for him to see. “Philosophy. Last lecture before the exam.”

Niall makes a face. “That’s rough. Where you headed now, then?”

“Back to mine, I guess,” Harry says with a shrug. _To spend the rest of the afternoon on the couch reading about existentialism and lamenting the broken kettle._

“Cool,” says Niall. He gestures at the book. “Lemme help you with that.”

Harry nearly drops it again. “What, like, carry it for me?”

“Sure.” He ignores Harry’s spluttered protests, setting his board down on the ground and stepping on. “Give me a minute, yeah?” And with a quick smile he’s off, darting smoothly around the obstacles in the skate park. He manages to speed through the centre of the halfpipe without getting in the way of anyone coming down from the sides, and scoops up his bag from where it’s resting against the far fence.

On his way back over to Harry, Niall jumps down a set of steps, the skateboard flipping over beneath his feet, and lands perfectly with the wheels right-side-down and his grin still in place. The whole thing is stupidly cool-looking, Harry decides. It doesn’t help that Niall makes it seem as easy as just walking down the stairs would’ve been.

He rolls to a stop in front of Harry and picks up his board again. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah. Definitely.”

“Alright. C’mon, then,” Niall says, smiling as he gently tugs the textbook out of Harry’s hands. “Lead the way.”

Harry has to tell his feet to move, but then he and Niall are walking up the street side by side. The silence is a lot more comfortable than it had been on the phone, when Harry couldn’t see the turned-up corners of Niall’s lips, which he definitely doesn’t stare at every time he glances over.

They get one block away from the skate park before Niall pipes up again. “What else do you take?” he asks. Harry blinks at him. “At the university, I mean. What’s your major?”

“I, uh.” Harry scratches his head. “I don’t... know?”

Niall laughs. “Undecided, huh?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs. “My courses are kind of all over the place. Philosophy, Marketing, World Lit, Sociology, and Spanish. I know it sounds like loads,” he says when Niall pauses to gape at him, “but it really isn’t that bad. Just a lot of reading.”

“I could barely stand high school,” Niall says, shaking his head in disbelief. “Uni just sounds mental. Why’re you doing this to yourself?”

Harry coughs and shoves his hands into his pockets. “There’s just-- there’s so many things out there? The world is so big, and I just-- I don’t know.” He bites his lip, looking down at his feet. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“Makes sense to me.” Niall bumps his shoulder into Harry’s. “You don’t look too happy about it, though.”

Harry manages to give him a small smile. “I’m used to people telling me that it’s weird, I guess.”

Niall furrows his brow. “They can get bent,” he says. “You can do whatever you want.”

“I, uh.” Harry blinks a few times. No one had ever been so unflinchingly supportive before. He ducks his head to hide the blush he feels spreading across his face. “Thank you. For that.”

Niall just smiles, nudging Harry’s shoulder again.

They walk the rest of the way back to Harry’s flat without saying much, and when they reach the front door Niall bites his lip as he hands the textbook over. Harry waits for him to say something, but after a moment he just shakes his head with a tight smile.

“See you, then,” he says, already stepping back, and Harry wants to reach out and make him stay.

He doesn’t, though. “Yeah,” Harry says, nodding. “I’ll - I’ll text you.”

Niall brightens a bit at that, saluting Harry before turning back the way they had come. Harry watches until he disappears around the corner.

\--

“Hey,” Louis starts, peeking over the top of the couch Harry is spread out on. “D’you want tea?”

Harry looks up from studying his Philosophy notes, eyebrows raised. “Are you offering?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure, then,” he sighs, gaze dropping back to his notes. He still has two days before the test. Maybe he can do this. “Just make sure the kettle’s plugged in before you...”

Harry trails off, narrowing his eyes. “You definitely broke the kettle two days ago,” he tells Louis.

“I know,” Louis says, and grins before getting up.

Harry sits up on the couch and watches him scurry about near the front door, pulling on a coat and winding a scarf around his neck. “Louis,” he deadpans. “You’re not serious.”

“About going to the café down the street and ordering drinks from there?” Louis tugs his shoes on and flashes another smile. “Yeah, I am.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry slides his papers off his lap and stands up. “I swear, you’ll use _anything_ as an excuse to go in there.”

Louis sniffs, carefully brushing his fringe out of his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Last month,” Harry says, starting to list on his fingers, “when we somehow ran out of teabags overnight. Zayn’s birthday, when you got him a coffee giftcard. About a week ago when you ‘accidentally’ left your favourite hat there--”

“False accusations!” Louis cries, clutching his chest, but Harry just stares at him until he deflates with a sigh. “Slightly correct accusations,” he amends grudgingly, crossing his arms.

Harry shrugs, leaning back against the arm of the couch. “Their coffee isn’t that good, is all.”

“It isn’t even about the coffee,” Louis mumbles. He takes a deep breath. “There’s a-- don’t you dare laugh, Styles.”

“I’m not. I won’t.”

“There’s a - a boy. Who works there.” He shuffles his feet. “A really fit boy who smiles too much and knows my order. Like, memorised.”

“Aw, that’s--”

“If you say ‘cute’, I will never speak to you again,” Louis says, looking away, but Harry can see a blush colouring his cheeks. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to leave while my dignity is still more-or-less intact.”

He opens the door but lingers, narrowing his eyes at Harry, who blinks innocently back at him. “Tell Zayn and I’ll kill you.”

“Got it,” Harry says, biting back a smile.

Louis nods, satisfied. “Good luck studying,” he calls, blowing him a kiss as he heads out.

Once the door closes, Harry flops back onto the couch and picks up his notes again. He reads through two entire pages without retaining anything, and decides to just start over. _Just two more days,_ he tells himself. _The moment you walk out of the exam room, you’ll never have to think about existential crises ever again._

Maybe he can do this. Maybe.

\--

_From: Niall_  
 _ > Hey what you up to ?_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > Trying to study. I swear I’ve read this one sentence about 5 times._

_From: Niall_  
 _ > Ah sorry t be distracting you then_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > No I don’t mind, I’ve been trying to find an excuse to break for a while now._

_From: Niall_  
 _ > I know how that is haha !_  
 _ > Its late though, you should be goin t bed_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > I could say the same to you._

_From: Niall_  
 _ > Nah I’m ready for it, got me slippers an everything_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > Then sleeeeeeeep_

_From: Niall_  
 _ > You first_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > I have another few chapters to read still._

_From: Niall_  
 _ > Sucks mate I’ll go on without you_  
 _ > Gnight! Hope you can keep your eyes open ?_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > Hope so yeah. Goodnight .x_

\--

On Sunday, Harry meets up with Zayn across the street from the skate park.

“Weird spot,” Zayn comments, glancing around as he stops beside Harry. “Middle of the street, and all.”

“No reason,” Harry says, answering a question that, he realises a moment later, Zayn hadn’t asked. He stops squinting at the bikes and skateboards across the way and clears his throat, ignoring the raised eyebrow Zayn gives him.

“You waiting for someone else, or...?”

“No,” Harry says quickly. “Let’s get going, Lou’s already started on dinner.”

Zayn shrugs and starts walking. Sparing one last glance at the halfpipe, Harry follows him down the street. He’s grateful that Zayn, unlike Louis, is actually capable of leaving things alone.

When they reach the flat they’re almost immediately put to work setting the table, laying out three sets of plates and cutlery. Louis skips out of the kitchen and places a large bowl of macaroni in the centre, then stands back with his hands on his hips, looking over the arrangement with a grin.

“Mac and cheese,” Zayn says, pouring three glasses of milk. “Classy.”

“It’s the only thing he knows how to make,” Harry stage-whispers.

Louis brandishes his fork at Zayn. “Don’t act like this isn’t the only meal you get each week that isn’t instant noodles.”

“Ah, Sunday dinners,” Zayn sighs, passing out cups as they all sit down. “Truly saving my broke-art-student life.” He scoops some pasta onto his plate and narrows his eyes at it. “My palate, not so much.”

Louis kicks him under the table. “You can cook next week, then.”

“Maybe I will,” Zayn says, sticking his tongue out. “I went to this art show the other day, and they had these weird-looking appetizers I could try to do.”

Harry laughs. “Why’s it always have to be weird-looking with you?”

“Liam’s words, not mine,” Zayn says, grinning, and Louis drops his fork.

Harry watches him duck down under the table to fetch it. “Who’s Liam?”

“Friend of mine,” Zayn answers, giving Louis a strange look when he resurfaces. “He works at that little café on the corner, you know the one.”

“Oh,” says Harry. He glances at Louis. “ _Oh_.”

“Speaking of work,” Louis cuts in, red-faced, to ever-so-casually change the subject, “how close are you to being prepared for your exam, Harold?”

Harry groans, sliding down in his chair. Zayn pats his shoulder. “I took Philosophy last term,” he tells him. “Honestly, it’s not as hard as you think it’ll be. And you know all the material well enough.”

“I _know_ I know it,” Harry says with a sigh. “I just... I feel like I’m going to forget something important if I don’t keep looking it over.” He peeks up at Zayn through his fringe. “Could you stay late tonight, help me study?”

“Can’t, sorry,” Zayn says, spearing another forkful of pasta. “I’ve got to leave before it gets dark.”

Louis gasps, mock-offended. “Oh _please_ , Zayn. What could possibly be better than an evening spent in our presence?”

“Doing some sketches at the skate park,” Zayn explains between sips of milk. “It’s for class. Figure drawing, action poses, all that. You two can come along, if you like.”

Louis leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “What, to watch a bunch of scrawny, un-helmeted boys jump around on wheels?” He pauses, considering. “Yeah, alright. Harry?”

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbles, biting his lip. “My exam--”

“--Is tomorrow,” Louis finishes for him. “Come on, it’ll be like your final night of freedom! And, you know...” He leans in close, cupping his hands to whisper in Harry’s ear. “A certain blonde someone might be hanging about.”

Harry swats him away, face hot. “He’s in,” Louis says smugly, and Zayn rolls his eyes.

“I think we need to talk about a little thing called peer pressure.”

“I think you need to shut up and finish your dinner.”

\--

They reach the park just as the stadium lights surrounding it turn on, and Harry’s feet decide to stop working as soon as he catches sight of Niall standing with a small group of other boys. Zayn ambles up to them, sketchbook under one arm, and Louis shoots Harry a smile before skipping off after him. The group looks up as the two of them approach, but Niall is the only one who looks past them and sees Harry. His face splits into a wide grin and he bounds over to him, and Harry can’t help beaming right back.

“Hey,” Niall says. He sounds out of breath, even though Harry was only a few steps behind the others. “What brings you round to these parts?”

“An art project, actually,” Harry explains, gesturing to the boys. “That’s Zayn over there, with the pencils, and the shorter one is Louis, my flatmate.”

Niall nods. “Awesome.” He gives them a once-over and then turns back to Harry. “Did you want to go join them?”

“Not really,” Harry admits, and Niall grins.

“C’mon,” he says, slinging his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “I wanna show you something.”

He leads Harry away from the group and up to the top of the halfpipe, the highest point in the park. They sit side-by-side on the ledge, looking out at the rest of the obstacles and ramps, and Niall doesn’t remove his arm.

“What am I supposed to be seeing?” Harry asks after a few minutes of quiet.

“Dunno,” Niall says. “I didn’t really think that far ahead. I just wanted to bring you up here.”

Harry decides not to think about that too hard. “Alright,” he says. “Cool, then.”

Laughing, Niall takes his arm back and shifts to face him. “Hey, why are you even out here? I thought you were studying.”

“I _was_ ,” Harry groans. “Louis made me come along.”

“Good on him,” Niall says, grinning.

“But the exam’s tomorrow morning,” Harry sighs. “I don’t know if I feel prepared quite yet.”

Niall nods sympathetically. “Philosophy, right? Is that your least favourite one?”

“Maybe,” Harry laughs. “I don’t think I have a least favourite, though.”

“Alright.” Niall nudges his foot against Harry’s. “Your favourite, then.”

“My favourite is...” He pauses, thinking it over. “Sociology, probably. Already done the exam for it and everything. ‘Women, Law, and Social Change’, it’s called.”

“Oh,” says Niall. “Is it like, feminism, then?”

“Sort of, yeah.” Harry turns to look at him. “Why? Is that a problem?”

Niall quickly shakes his head. “No, I just mean, like.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Are you taking it to meet girls, or...?”

“It’s not as much about _girls_ as it is about women’s roles,” Harry explains. “Like, what effect women have had on certain societal changes, or how their role was influenced because of said changes. We also look at the way traditional gender roles have developed but also, in ways, stayed exactly the same, and the way that our society has formed around that, and--”

He cuts off, noticing the amused look Niall is giving him. “It sounded interesting,” he finishes lamely, looking at his feet.

Niall pokes him in the side, a smile curving across his mouth. “So you _don’t_ want to meet girls, is what you’re saying.”

“Uh, no.” Harry swallows. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay,” Niall says, leaning back on his palms. “Cool.”

\--

Louis calls Harry down when the stars start to come out, and they leave Zayn to finish up his project while they walk home. Harry turns back exactly once to wave at Niall where he’s still perched on the half pipe, leaving Louis smirking for the next two blocks.

He starts snickering when they round the corner, and Harry narrows his eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” Louis says, failing spectacularly at looking innocent. “You just seemed to be getting very cozy up there with blondie.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘cozy’,” Harry sighs. “Closer to ‘normal-level friendly’.”

“If you say so,” Louis says, shrugging, but the smirk stays on his face. Harry pushes him off the sidewalk. He laughs and hops back up onto the kerb, but doesn’t speak again until they’re almost home.

“Hey, um.” Louis pushes his hands into his pockets. “I’m glad you came along tonight.”

Harry stops walking and turns to look at him, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t even hang around you guys, though.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Louis says. “You’ve been spending too much time with books lately. It’s good you got some interaction with humans. Don’t worry, though,” he sighs, as they begin to walk again. “I’ll let you get back to it for the rest of the night.”

Harry bites his lip. “I... don’t think I will, actually? I’m still anxious but I don’t feel, like, _sick_ anymore.”

Louis nods, a smile curving his lips. “Don’t suppose I could get you to have a drink, then? I’m pretty sure Zayn’s bourbon is still in the cabinet somewhere.”

“The night before an exam?” Harry laughs. “Yeah, no. You get an A for effort.”

Louis shrugs again, turning the corner onto their street. “Worth a shot.”

\--

Harry wakes up the next morning and doesn’t feel half as much like throwing up as he expected to.

It’s a good sign, he supposes. He gets dressed and makes his way to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. There’s a note on the counter, propped up next to the still-broken kettle. Harry unfolds it carefully.

_HAZ -_  
 _gone to get tea_  
 _don’t worry about the exam, you’ll be fine_  
 _Louis xxx_  
 _(drinks after y/y)_

The first ‘Y’ is already circled. Harry smiles, shaking his head, and pins the note up on the fridge. He makes himself toast and sits down to take one last look at his notes. Somehow, he still doesn’t feel as sick about the exam as he did just the day before. He hadn’t done anything much different, after all, except--

His phone chimes where he set it down on the table, and he stares at it confusedly before actually picking it up.

_1 New Message_  
 _From: Niall_  
 _ > Hey ! Good luck today x_

Harry feels a grin slowly spread over his face, and something almost like confidence starts to build up in his chest. It’s a bit weird, after spending so long with a heavy weight there instead. Still beaming, he stands up and heads to the door, slipping his phone into his pocket. He can do this, he decides, and leaves the flat before the feeling can disappear.

\--

_From: Harry_  
 _ > I dd it iM gckInd finwh_

_From: Niall_  
 _ > ???_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > Hld o n_

Harry nearly drops his phone as he skips down the steps of the exam building, fumbling with it until he manages to hit the Call button next to Niall’s name. It barely rings once on the other end before Niall picks up.

“Hi,” he greets, sounding a bit concerned. “Are you drunk?”

“I did the exam,” Harry says in a rush. “I did it, it’s done, and I never have to think about Franz Kafka ever again.”

“Congratulations,” Niall laughs, and Harry resists the urge to click his heels as he walks down the street.

“I think I did okay on it. Maybe even, like, _good._ ”

“Yeah? And what’s left now?”

“Spanish,” Harry sighs. “But I’m not going to think about that yet.”

Niall hums. “I could help you out, if you want.”

“...With the not thinking about it?”

“With the Spanish, I mean,” Niall laughs. “I speak Spanish.”

Harry blinks. “Oh. You- oh.”

Niall snickers at him. “Yeah, so I could help you with pronunciation, or grammar, or whatever. We could, like, meet somewhere--”

“You could come over to mine,” Harry says, hoping it sounds casual. “If you want, I mean.”

“That works, yeah.”

“Cool.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

Harry bites back the grin he feels coming on. “Sure. I’ll be home all day, so...”

“I’ll text you before I come round,” Niall says, then hums for a moment. “I _think_ I remember how to get there.”

“If you get lost, you can, you know.” Harry swallows. “Call me.”

“I will,” Niall says simply. Harry’s heart flutters. “Speaking of your place, you should probably get back there. Celebrate or something. I’ll catch you later, yeah?”

Harry nods, remembering a moment later that Niall can’t actually see him. “Yeah, later. Tomorrow, I mean.”

“Definitely,” Niall laughs. “Bye, Harry.”

\--

He decides against skipping the rest of the way home, but even though he drops his keys twice before unlocking the front door, Harry still steps into the flat with a smile on his face.

“Hey!” Louis calls from the kitchen. “How’d it go?”

“It was good,” Harry says dreamily, slipping his shoes off. “Really good. Great, even.”

Louis comes into view and leans against the doorframe, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. “Seriously? And here I thought you’d be having a conniption about it.”

“Really, really good,” Harry repeats, and flops down on the couch face-first.

Louis narrows his eyes. “ _Ha_ rold,” he says, crossing his arms and regarding Harry suspiciously. “I thought you were just in an exam.”

Rolling onto his back, Harry gives Louis a confused look. “I was.”

“So why do you look like blondie ran you over again?”

Harry sits up so fast he nearly falls off the couch. “I don’t,” he says, too loud, and Louis raises an eyebrow.

“If you say so,” he sighs, turning to head back into the kitchen. “I’ve just never seen you look so _chill_ after an exam before. Usually you’re all--” He makes a vague, spastic gesture with his arms before disappearing from view.

Biting his lip, Harry slowly gets to his feet and follows Louis through the doorway. After a few moments of staring down at the floor tiles, he takes a deep breath and looks up with a carefully nonchalant expression.

“Niall is coming over tomorrow.”

Louis drops a handful of half-dry forks into the sink and spins around. “I knew it!” he crows, punching the air. “You _charmer_ , you. Do you want the place to yourselves?”

“I-- no,” Harry splutters, blushing. “We’re not-- He’s only helping me study!”

“You invited a boy over for a _study date_ ,” Louis sighs dreamily, clutching his chest. “I’m so proud.”

Face in hands, Harry sinks into a chair by the kitchen table. “It’s _not--_ ”

“It so is. Wait there, I’ll see if we have any candles. You know, for ambience. Mood lighting.” Louis waggles his eyebrows. “If you get which _mood_ I mean-- hey, where are you going?”

“To hide under a rock,” Harry calls from halfway down the hall. “Forever.”

He can hear Louis cackling through his bedroom door.

\--

Harry spends the next morning practicing the expression with which he plans to answer the front door. It shouldn’t be too hard, he figures, to avoid looking like he’s been glancing out the window every few minutes just in case Niall forgets to text him before he shows up. The key is to not let his eyes get too wide, lest he come off as over-excited, because he’s going to be very calm and cool about this--

“Stop making bedroom eyes at the mirror,” Louis says from behind him, perched on the edge of the bathtub.

“This was a bad idea,” Harry sighs, turning around and leaning on the counter. “What if he doesn’t even show up?”

Louis gives him a look. “Harry, he’s the one who offered to help you.”

“Yeah, but. What if--”

“For christ’s sake, he’s not going to judge you on the amount of time you take to open the door-- Don’t make that face, I saw you counting your steps earlier.” Standing up, Louis shoos Harry out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. “If by some unforeseen happenstance things get weird, I’ll step in and save your dignity by being my charming self.”

Harry sinks into a chair with a sigh. “Thanks, I think.”

“Not a problem. For now, sit there and be calm. He hasn’t even texted you yet.”

As if on cue, Harry’s phone chimes in his pocket and, in an effort to take it out as quickly as possible, Harry nearly throws it across the room.

_From: Niall_  
 _ > 15 minutes !!_

“Well,” Louis sighs, reading over Harry’s shoulder, “be half-calm, at the very least.”

Harry counts the seconds. Louis rubs his shoulders. Too soon, there’s a knock on the door, and Harry jumps out of his chair and makes a run for it. He stumbles only once when he tries to glance back at the wall clock as he goes, but generally makes it to the door in one piece.

At the last second he tries to remember how he had decided to arrange his face, but his hand turns the knob before he’s ready and then there’s Niall, grinning as usual, with his board under one foot and a steaming paper cup in each hand.

“Hey,” he greets, and holds one out to Harry. “Brought you tea.”

Harry smiles as he takes it, amazed at how easy it feels. “You’re early,” he says, stepping back to let Niall in. “Your text said fifteen minutes.”

Niall shrugs, picking up his board. “Five, fifteen, whatever. I don’t have a watch.”

He leaves his shoes and skateboard by the door and follows Harry into the living room, where Harry had tried, somewhat, to organize his Spanish notes. “It’d look nicer if you took longer,” Harry tells him, and Niall laughs.

“Sorry, next time I’ll just stand outside your door for ten minutes.”

“Good. I’m holding you to that.”

Niall just smiles, taking a seat on the floor to start looking over the notes. Harry, after a moment of hesitation, sits beside him, quietly sipping his tea.

“Verb conjugation is a bitch,” Niall says a few minutes later, “so let’s start with that. D’you have blank paper?”

Harry nods and stands up to get it. Faintly, he hears someone gasp, and looks up just in time to see Louis appear by his side and snatch the cup out of his hand. He examines it closely, eyes narrowed as if searching for some specific detail, but Harry’s sure he already knows where it’s from. “Did you get this at that little place on the corner?” Louis asks, louder than necessary.

Niall makes a confused sort of face. “Uh, yeah.”

“About how long ago, would you say?” Louis is already slipping his shoes on. “Like, minutes-wise.”

“Maybe ten? Not even that?”

“Excellent,” Louis says, and picks up his coat from the floor where he usually drops it. “Now, describe the person who served you.”

Niall shoots a desperate glance at Harry. “Uh, brown hair? Short, sort of flipped up in the front. Brown eyes, I think. He smiled a lot.”

Louis grins. “Bingo. I’ll be back later.” He throws his coat on and heads to the door, pausing once to look back at Niall. “Really nice meeting you. Make sure Harry doesn’t break anything.” He gives them a wave and closes the door behind him.

“What the fuck,” Niall says immediately, and Harry just laughs.

\--

They do start with conjugation, but Niall stops Harry halfway down his verb chart and assures him he’ll be fine. He moves onto irregular ones, sitting across from Harry with the textbook open on the floor between them. It feels normal, Harry decides. Not at all like a study date, or any of the other synonyms Louis came up with.

After half an hour of Niall saying words and Harry repeating them in a slightly worse accent, Niall’s stomach growls loudly. “Pizza break,” he declares, and closes the textbook.

“Um,” Harry says, watching him fish his phone out of his jeans and type a message. “You know it’s still morning, right?”

“Yeah, and?”

“And most places don’t deliver before, like, four in the afternoon?”

“Most places,” Niall laughs, shaking his head. “Luckily, I know a guy.” He puts his phone away and opens the book again. “Where were we? _Yo digo, tú dices_...”

Sure enough, when there’s a knock on the door before they even reach the next chapter, Niall jumps up to get it and there’s a guy waiting outside with a pizza box. He hands it to Niall, claps him on the shoulder, and leaves. Harry doesn’t really know what he expected.

“Do you do this for everyone you teach Spanish to?” he asks as Niall joins him on the floor again.

“Nah,” Niall says, flipping the box open and picking out a slice. “Just you.”

Harry swallows hard. “Why?”

He wants to take it back as soon as it leaves his mouth, but Niall makes a face like he’s actually thinking about it. “I guess I like you,” he sighs eventually. “Also, hungry.”

Nodding in a decidedly calm sort of way, Harry watches Niall stuff half the slice into his mouth. “D’you need a napkin?”

Niall shakes his head. “I need you to flip pages, though,” he says around his mouthful. He shifts over, closer to the pizza box, making room for Harry in front of the textbook.

Harry smiles and scoots over. It feels a bit like he should be paying more attention to Spanish and less to the warm press of Niall’s arm against his when Niall leans forward to gesture at something with this elbow, but Harry can’t quite bring himself to worry.

Especially not when the pizza box is empty and Niall spreads out on the floor, insisting that learning is done best when one takes as many breaks as possible. Harry sits quietly beside him - not looking at the stripe of skin visible where Niall’s shirt rides up, of course not - until Niall tugs him down, pointing out a pattern in the stucco ceiling.

It’s more comfortable than Harry thought it would be, lying on the floor. Niall goes quiet for minutes at a time, long enough for Harry to think he’s fallen asleep, but then sparks up again with quick-fire questions about pronunciation or the easiest way to conjugate _vivir_. The textbook gets kicked closed at some point.

Later, Harry’s not sure how long, an alarm rings on Niall’s phone and he heaves himself up to leave. He gives Harry a somewhat-sleepy hug at the door before picking up his board and zooming off. Harry can’t keep the smile off his face.

\--

Louis comes back not too long afterwards, and Harry mumbles a hello from where he’s sprawled out on the couch, half-asleep. Dropping his coat on the floor, Louis walks up to the couch, pausing for a moment to sigh dreamily before flopping down on top of Harry.

“Hey, what are you-- ouch. Louis. What.”

Louis nuzzles his face into Harry’s shirt. “He invited me to go with him on his break.”

Resisting the urge to toss him off onto the floor, Harry sits up a little. “Who did?”

“Liam did. We took a walk together, Harry.” He sighs again, kicking his feet a little.

Harrys pats his head. “I’m glad you had a nice day. Please let me stand up.”

Louis doesn’t move. “Only if you tell me about your date with blondie.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry tries to push him off, but Louis clings to his shirt and refuses to budge. Harry wonders, not for the first time, how much easier his life would be if he had chosen to live with Zayn.

He heaves a sigh and closes his eyes. “We sat on the floor and ate pizza and he taught me Spanish.”

“He taught you Spanish, or he taught you _Spanish_?”

“Don’t do that.”

Louis grins and rolls off him onto the floor. “Sounds nice, anyway. Do you figure you’re ready for your exam?”

“Not sure.” Harry glances at his notebook, lying unopened on the coffee table. “I think I am. I hope I am.”

“Well, you’ve got a while yet until you actually write it,” Louis sighs, picking himself up and stretching. “Time enough to make dinner, I’d say.”

Harry laughs, but lets Louis pull him up off the couch. “You only live with me for my cooking, is that it?”

“That’s exactly it,” Louis deadpans. “You feed me, I give you stellar relationship advice.”

“‘Stellar’ isn’t the first word I would use.”

“But it is _one_ of them.”

\--

It doesn’t go horribly.

Harry exits the exam room and tries his best not to sprint down the hall. He’s not sure about how he did on the spoken part, but he has a good feeling about most of the written section. He’ll think more about it later, he decides, stepping out of the building and taking a deep breath. For now, he’s going to take Louis up on his ever-existing offer of going out for drinks.

That’s the plan, anyway, until he notices Niall sitting on the building’s front steps.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Harry asks, and Niall turns around, beaming.

“Yeah,” he says, standing up. “You.”

Harry blinks at him. “Don’t look so surprised,” Niall laughs. “I woke up early so I could brain-blast you with good vibes, but that didn’t seem to work. Your hair’s too thick, I think.” He reaches up to flick one of Harry’s curls, but Harry catches his hand.

“You couldn’t reach me mentally,” he says carefully, “so you just showed up here?”

Niall grins, swinging Harry’s arm back and forth. “Yeah. Is that bad?”

“No,” Harry says quickly. “No, it’s fine, it’s just...” He trails off, looking at their joined hands, and Niall’s smile gets a bit bigger.

Fuck it, Harry decides, and tightens his grip.

“Would you go for drinks with me?” It doesn’t come out quite as casual as he wanted it to, and he feels a blush creeping up his neck. “Not just me, I mean - Louis has been trying to get Zayn and I out for about a month, and now that I’m done my exams there’s like, a proper reason to celebrate. It’d just be good if you were there, you know, since you helped me study yesterday, and--”

“Harry,” Niall says, smiling at him, and Harry stops. “I’ll be there if you want me to be.”

Harry worries, for a moment, that Niall can hear his heartbeat going double-time. “Good, then. Tonight, I think. I’ll check with Louis.”

“Cool.” With his free hand, Niall checks the time on his phone. “I’ve gotta drop in on my dentist pretty soon, but, you know. Text me where and when.”

“Right,” Harry says, nodding. “I could - if you want, I mean - I could walk with you.”

Niall laughs. “Sure, if you’re willing.”

As they start to walk, Harry remembers how he’s still holding onto Niall’s hand, and carefully lets him go. His palm feels cold, afterwards - and when Niall slips his hands into his pockets, Harry wonders if he misses the warmth, too.

\--

They part ways outside the dentist office only to meet up again that evening, when Louis leads their small party into the bar he chose. Liam is with them too, somehow, but Harry has other things to think about - like how, when they find a table, Niall immediately sits right next to him. Liam, Louis, and Zayn sit on the other side of the booth, and the five of them sit quietly, comfortably, until Niall stands up and offers to buy the first round.

“I’ll help,” Liam says brightly, and slides out of his seat to join him. Louis watches him go up to the counter with Niall, a dreamy smile on his face.

“So,” Harry starts. “Liam.”

Louis snaps to attention. “Yeah, Liam.”

“How did you, you know.” He tries not to laugh as Louis’ gaze drifts back over to the counter. “Get him to come along?”

Zayn speaks up before Louis can answer. “Holy shit, Harry, you should’ve been there--”

“Don’t,” Louis hisses, reaching over to cover his mouth. “Zayn, do _not_.” But Zayn bats his hands away with a grin, and turns back to Harry.

“He paced around the flat for at _least_ half an hour--”

“It was ten minutes, maximum.”

“--tried to take out his phone, dropped it, left it on the floor while he went around the coffee table--”

“Okay, no.” Louis gives Zayn a half-hearted shove and clears his throat. “I walked around the flat for a bit, just to limber up, you know, and then I went down to the shop and asked him.”

Zayn snorts, and Louis sighs. “I ordered a coffee first just to avoid making things uncomfortable, but I _did_ ask. And he said ‘sure Louis, I’d _love_ to’.” He sticks his tongue out at Zayn, who rolls his eyes.

“It’d be more impressive if you didn’t--”

“Alright!” Louis cries, throwing his hands up. “Maybe I forgot said coffee as I left the shop, but it’s not a big deal. But what _is_ a big deal, Zayn, is that you offered no comfort in my time of need.”

“Like you needed _me_ ,” Zayn laughs. “Liam came running up the street with your drink, and you nearly fell out the window waving to him--”

“You know what,” Louis says flatly, crossing his arms, “we’re not going to talk about this anymore.”

At that moment, Liam and Niall return and Louis brightens up again. They pass the drinks around the table but Niall lifts his, smiling at Harry.

“A toast,” he declares, “to Harry. For being done with exams.”

“And for finally agreeing to drink on a weeknight,” Louis adds. “Cheers.” They clink their glasses together at the centre of the table, laughing.

It’s nice, after that.

Louis insists on getting the next round - just for three, because Liam doesn’t actually drink and Zayn has work in the morning. Zayn does get up to find the jukebox though, leaving Harry alone with Niall and Liam. Liam has the same sort of smile watching Louis up at the bar counter as Louis did while watching him. Harry doesn’t know what to do with that information.

“Thanks for coming along tonight,” he says, and Liam tears his gaze away to grin across the table at Harry.

“Yeah, no problem! I don’t really drink, but...” He shrugs. “It’s really cool to meet you guys.”

Harry nods. “It was cool of Louis to invite you.”

“Well, actually...” Liam rubs the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “Zayn asked me first. A few days ago he came over for dinner and brought it up. And then Louis asked earlier today, and I kind of figured he had, like, worked himself up to do it, so I just...” He trails off, looking a bit lost.

Niall laughs. “Just didn’t tell him that you’d already said yes?”

Liam nods uneasily. “That doesn’t count as lying, does it?”

“Nah, man.” Niall says, shaking his head. “You’re good.”

Liam breathes a sigh of relief just as Louis returns to the table. “Malik,” he yells across the bar, “if you pick some fucking slow-jam Canadian hipster shit, I swear to god.” Then, he sits again beside Liam and slides two full glasses to Harry and Niall.

He taps his drink lightly against Liam’s glass of water. Liam smiles fondly at him, and Louis nearly chokes on his next sip. Harry decides he likes Liam.

Later, after Harry has bought the third round and Niall’s arm has found its way around his shoulders, Zayn gets them each a shot of fireball.

“In the words of songwriter Aubrey Graham,” he says, as he sets them down on the tabletop, “‘take a shot for me’.”

“Quoting Drake doesn’t make you cool,” Louis tells him, but downs the tiny glass anyway.

It burns in Harry’s throat and fuddles his brain just a tiny bit more, but he’s still mostly sure this is the best he’s ever felt - sitting and smiling and laughing with these four boys. There’s more to it than just this, he can feel it, but his head is also completely swimming, so he puts those thoughts away and leans against Niall instead.

“I think you’re about done,” Niall snickers, looking down at him.

“ _You’re_ about done,” Harry replies. Nodding sympathetically, Niall helps him stand up. He says something to Liam about getting a cab that Harry doesn’t quite hear because, across the table, Louis is nailing an air-guitar solo. He knew he moved in with him for a reason.

Suddenly he’s being helped into his jacket and half-carried out the door into the cold night. The frigid air hits Harry in the face like a fist, after the warmth of the bar, and he blinks slowly, looking around.

“Where are the others?” he tries to ask, but it comes out more like concerned humming.

“Don’t worry, man,” Niall says, putting Harry’s hands into his pockets for him. “Zayn and Liam are gathering Louis up, and then we’re gonna catch a cab back to your place.”

Harry nods, and they go quiet. He watches the cold air swirl out of his mouth in clouds.

“I’ve never,” he starts, loses his tongue in his mouth, then tries again, “I’ve never been this drunk.”

“I’ve seen worse,” Niall assures him. “I’ve _been_ worse, actually.”

Harry makes a face. “What the fuck, though. You’ve had just as. Just as much as me.”

“Irish, mate,” Niall says, grinning.

He’s got a really nice smile, and Harry steps closer, just to look at him a bit more. He takes one step too many, though, and wow, Niall’s face is right there.

Harry leans in and kisses him before he can think about it too much. Niall smiles against his lips and kisses right back.

Harry likes to think he’s a good kisser, but he supposes, as his mouth slides wetly over Niall’s, all bets are off when alcohol is involved. Whatever, though, because Niall grabs the collar of Harry’s jacket and pulls him a little closer. His teeth graze Harry’s bottom lip, and Harry’s tongue brushes the metal of Niall’s braces.

When their noses bump they both start laughing, and they break apart but stay close enough to nearly step on each other’s toes. Even after it’s quiet again Niall won’t stop smiling, and Harry has half a mind to kiss him again.

But, the bar door opens and the other three step out, Louis leaning heavily on Liam but Liam still smiling down at him. Zayn raises his eyebrows at Harry, but hails a cab instead of asking questions. Harry’s always liked Zayn.

\--

As soon as the five of them get inside and hang their coats up, Zayn starts pulling blankets out of the hall closet.

“I’m staying over,” he announces, “just in case one of you gets sick. Niall, you’re staying too.”

Niall gives him a thumbs-up. Louis yawns and, dragging Liam along, stumbles into the living room. He lies down on the floor and tugs Liam down next to him.

Zayn laughs and throws a blanket at them.

“Is this a sleepover?” Harry asks as Zayn ushers him and Niall down the hall to Harry’s room.

“If that’s what you want to call it, then sure.” Zayn pulls the curtains over the window, then turns to look at them both. “I’ll be in Louis’ room if you need me. Try not to do anything stupid before the sun comes up, okay?” With that, he turns out the light and pads off down the hall.

Harry shucks his jeans off and climbs into bed, and Niall slides under the covers beside him. They turn on their sides to face each other.

“Goodnight, I guess,” Harry says.

Niall shuffles closer. “It’s morning already.”

Harry squints at the clock on his nightstand, vision still a bit watery. “So it is.” When he puts his head back down, Niall is almost close enough to brush their noses together. It sounds nice in Harry’s head, so he leans closer.

“Eskimo kiss,” he whispers, trying to give Niall one. Niall kisses him instead.

It’s less wet than the first one, more sleepy, more warm. Niall pulls back after a few minutes and sighs happily, then throws one leg over Harry’s knees and closes his eyes. Harry isn’t sure how long he watches Niall’s face before he drops off into sleep.

\--

Harry wakes up alone in his bed with a headache and a strange memory of Niall’s face very close to his. Then he remembers.

He whips off his blankets and jumps out of bed, but has to stand still for a bit afterwards to get his head to stop feeling like it’s going to explode. He wishes, for a moment, that it _would_ \- at least that way he wouldn’t have to face the fact that he spent a fair amount of his time the night before _making out with Niall_. Like, proper sucking face. Whatever other terms Louis would put it in.

At least his drunk-self had enough common sense to keep it above the waist.

Eventually, through the headache and his current ashtray-mouth, he shuffles his way down the hall and into the kitchen.

Niall is at the stove, cooking bacon and humming to himself. Harry was not expecting this.

“Morning,” Niall greets him, smiling. “Zayn left for work already, and the other two are still asleep on the floor.” He picks up a plate and hands it to Harry. “I figured you’d want the lie-in.”

Harry looks down at the food Niall has handed him, then back up. “What?”

“It’s a bacon sandwich, man,” Niall laughs, turning around to grab a clean plate from the cupboard. “Hangover cure. Trust me.”

It’s not the end of the world quite yet, so Harry eats his breakfast. It does make him feel better. Niall makes a second sandwich - presumably for Louis - and sets it aside, then leans back against the counter, watching Harry with a small smile.

“So.” Harry puts his empty plate down. “Last night.”

“Yeah?” Niall looks so unbothered that if it weren’t for the kiss-bruised redness of his mouth, Harry would be sure it was all a dream.

“You and me, we--” He cuts himself off, trying to think of a way to explain the situation without offending Niall or dying of embarrassment. “Outside the bar? And in my room, we were-- You--”

“Breathe, Harry,” Niall laughs, poking him in the side. “It’s okay.”

‘Okay’ is not on the list of adjectives that Harry would use. He tries to make a calmly-confused sort of face.

Niall hops up to sit on the edge of the counter. “I don’t mind, really,” he goes on, shrugging. “It was fun, you know. Kissing you.”

Harry’s heart does an actual backflip.

“Um.” Something like relief washes over him, and he can’t quite make words around his growing smile. “That’s... good.”

“It is, yeah.”

Harry slides just a bit closer to Niall. “I’ll remember that, the next time we’re drunk.”

Niall crosses his arms, humming thoughtfully. “Do we have to be drunk, though?” He taps his chin, thinking about it seriously. “Like, the risk of, say, vomiting everywhere, is a lot higher when alcohol is involved.”

“Right,” Harry says, nodding. “Maybe nix the drinking, then.”

They go quiet for a moment, looking around the kitchen, but when their eyes meet again they both burst out laughing. Maybe, Harry thinks, this is not the end of the world.

“C’mere,” Niall says, beckoning Harry over to stand between his legs against the counter. Harry rests his hands on Niall’s knees, and Niall ducks his head, pressing their lips together.

It’s much better being sober, Harry decides. Niall’s mouth is soft and warm and pliant against his. It makes Harry shiver. They pull apart after a few seconds, and Niall whines when Harry steps back from him.

“I need to brush my teeth, okay,” he explains, grinning, and Niall rolls his eyes but shoos him away.

Staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, Harry congratulates himself on remaining relatively calm. He supposes it has something to do with the fact that it wasn’t _weird_ \- kissing Niall felt normal, in a way. Like he was supposed to be doing it, and something had fallen into place once he had started.

Maybe it’d be easier to think through if he didn’t have a residual bit of headache still in his brain somewhere. Maybe he’ll ask Niall about it. After all, he thinks as he cleans his teeth, figuring this thing out should be a 2-person job. If it’s even a thing at all. Which is another thing he should ask about.

When he returns to the kitchen, however, Louis is sitting at the table, sharing bits of his breakfast sandwich with Liam. Niall winks at Harry over his shoulder and goes back to cleaning up the stove top. Harry supposes that his questions can wait.

\--

“You wouldn’t believe how comfortable that carpet can be,” Louis says, sighing dreamily. “Honestly, I’m considering getting rid of my bed at this point.”

Harry doesn’t look up from his phone. “But only if you’ve got Liam lying beside you every night.”

“Obviously,” Louis scoffs. “Seriously, though, I’ve never had such a nice sleep immediately after a night out.”

“‘Immediately’ is right.”

Crossing his arms, Louis sticks his tongue out at Harry. “I can sleep wherever I want, thanks.”

“As long as there’s no photographic proof afterwards, you mean,” Harry deadpans.

Horrified, Louis sits up straighter. “You didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” Harry agrees. “Zayn might’ve.”

Louis jumps up and sprints out of the room. Harry can hear him, a moment later, on the phone with Liam and convincing him to go through Zayn’s phone. Liam will do it, of course, and Louis will wax poetic about how wonderful he is. As he’s been doing for the past day and a half.

In a way, Harry is sort of glad that Louis is so preoccupied with the way Liam twitches in his sleep or crinkles his eyes when he smiles. It gives him more time to be alone with thoughts of Niall, instead of having Louis smirk knowingly at him whenever he zones out of a conversation. It’s only a matter of time, he knows, but for now it’s nice.

In the meantime, his phone chimes and he opens the new message.

_From: Niall_  
 _ > You wanna hang out after only like 1 day apart ? Clingy there styles_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > That hurts. What if I had something special planned?_

_From: Niall_  
 _ > Do you ??_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > YOULL NEVER KNOW_

_From: Niall_  
 _ > Ahh I see how it is !_  
 _ > Well if you must see me Ive got another dentist thing_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > What fun. Do you need emotional support after getting your teeth cleaned?_

_From: Niall_  
 _ > No but I might if orthodontist man tightens this shit any further_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > I’ll be there for youuuuuuu x_

_From: Niall_  
 _ > Yeah youd better be !_  
 _ > I’ll txt you the address tmrw_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > Okay. See you then .xx_

\--

Niall starts complaining as soon as they leave the dentist office.

“Christ, everything hurts,” he moans, dragging his feet as he walks at Harry’s side. “My teeth, my mouth, my _whole face_ , I swear.” He rubs his jaw, silent for a moment, then starts up again louder than before. “Which asshole decided it was a good idea to put a bunch of metal in a guy’s mouth? Who came up with this shit? My fucking _teeth--_ ”

Harry catches his arm, stopping him in his tracks, and ducks down to kiss him gently. Niall sighs through his nose, and Harry can feel him relax. He pulls back and grins.

“Any better?”

“Not really,” Niall says, “but I appreciate the effort.”

Harry slings a comforting arm over his shoulders, Niall grasps onto his hand where it hangs by his arm, and they continue down the street.

“Question,” Harry asks, after a block or so of quiet. “Are you going to laugh if I ask you to come over tomorrow?”

Niall shakes his head. “Definitely not,” he deadpans. “I would never laugh at you. Ever.”

“I expect nothing less,” Harry says with a sniff. “Anyway. You should come for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Dinner,” Niall repeats, raising his eyebrows.

Harry nods. “Louis demands that me and him and Zayn have dinner together every Sunday. In case we don’t see each other much during the week.”

“Like, family dinner, then?” Niall hums, biting his lip. “I don’t know, am I allowed?”

“Louis encourages us to bring friends,” Harry says, and Niall starts laughing. “Really, he does! Zayn doesn’t trust him to not be weird around his cool art student friends, though.”

“So I’ll be like, a test group.”

“A bit, yeah.”

Niall shakes his head, smiling. “I don’t know...”

“I’ll be cooking,” Harry adds, hoping it doesn’t sound too much like he’s begging. “It’s supposed to be Zayn’s turn, but if you want to come, then I’ll do it and let him do next week.”

They stop walking. Harry looks around and realizes they’ve reached the skate park already. Niall ducks out from under Harry’s arm and turns to face him.

“Alright, then,” he says, and gives Harry a quick kiss. “I’ll be there.”

He runs off into the park, waving over his shoulder, and Harry resists the urge to punch the air as he walks home.

\--

Zayn calls to say that he’s bringing Liam along to dinner, and Louis re-does his hair three times.

Harry supposes that, when compared to Louis, he’s being relatively calm about Niall coming too. So calm, in fact, that he doesn’t even knock anything over when he runs to answer the door.

Niall has his hair down and has switched out his usual tanktop for a soft jumper. He kisses Harry’s cheek when he steps inside, and Harry nearly forgets how to walk.

He sits in the kitchen with Louis while Harry goes about preparing dinner (a fancy spaghetti recipe his mum sent him), and very politely doesn’t mention the way Louis’ foot-tapping shakes the entire table.

When Zayn and Liam arrive, Harry shoos them all out of the kitchen - except Niall, who opts for watching Harry stir pasta sauce instead.

“Usually no one is allowed in here while I’m cooking,” Harry says, adjusting the heat and moving off to grab a cutting board. “Be careful. One wrong move and you lose your V.I.P. status.”

Niall snickers and snatches a cherry tomato off the counter. “You wouldn’t kick me out.”

He pops it into his mouth. Harry tears his gaze away and tries to focus on slicing up peppers. “I’d consider it.” He can see Niall grinning out of the corner if his eye. “I have to think of what’s best for the kitchen, you know.”

“I’m sure the kitchen doesn’t mind me,” Niall murmurs, sliding closer. “I don’t think you do, either.”

“I’m going to mind you very much if I end up cutting one of my fingers off,” Harry says, trying to be stern, but Niall just laughs and pecks Harry’s cheek again, then moves off to the living room.

No one loses any limbs, the pasta sauce doesn’t burn, and Harry catches himself humming as he sets the finished dish on the table.

The five of them sit down together, Harry beside Niall and Liam between Zayn and Louis, and start filling their plates.

“Pasta two weeks in a row,” Louis sighs, twirling the noodles around his fork. “You could’ve been a bit more creative, Harold.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Mac and cheese is hardly on the same level.”

Louis clutches his heart in mock-offense. “I’ll have you know that I make macaroni of the highest possible calibre.”

“Maybe it’s just your taste buds, Zayn,” Liam says. “I’m sure Louis’ cooking is fine.”

The entire table stares at him for a moment. Louis looks like he might cry.

“You’re officially invited to every dinner ever,” he announces, and taps Liam’s shoulders with his butter knife as if knighting him. “Niall, you too. Attendance is mandatory unless you give an excuse deemed acceptable by myself and one other attendee. No one leaves until the dishes are done. Acceptable? Okay.” He puts the knife down and goes back to his spaghetti. Liam looks vaguely confused, but no one objects.

Niall’s foot finds Harry’s under the table and brushes slowly back and forth across his ankle. Harry glances at him, eyebrows raised, but Niall just smiles like he has no idea that what his foot is doing. It’s not really the time or place for footsies, but Harry decides he’ll let it happen just this once.

“Oh,” Zayn says suddenly. “Forgot something. Li, can you go into my bag and get it? It’s by the door.”

“What am I looking for, exactly?” Liam asks, standing up.

“You’ll know it when you see it,” Zayn assures him.

He wanders out of the kitchen and Louis watches him go, even keeps his eyes on the doorway after he’s disappeared.

“Oh my god,” Zayn says. “You’ve got it bad.”

“What? No, I don’t,” Louis huffs, pointedly looking anywhere but the door.

“I am seeing the slightest likeness of a lost puppy,” Harry remarks, and Niall tries not to laugh.

Louis wrinkles his nose. “Who are you people? Get out of my house.”

“I’m just saying,” Zayn sing-songs, “that if it’s this obvious to _us_ , then--”

“Um, is this it?” Liam asks from the doorway, holding up a bottle of wine.

Zayn laughs in delight and takes it from him, placing it on the table like a centrepiece. “All is how it should be,” he sighs happily, and beckons Liam to sit back down. “Now, Lou, as I was saying--”

“So, Niall,” Louis says loudly, covering the rest of Zayn’s sentence. “How’s life? Any plans for this week?”

Niall taps his fork against his mouth, thinking. “On Thursday night I’m going back home for a couple days,” he says, and Louis nods along, ignoring Zayn rolling his eyes at him. “Like, to Mullingar. Pretty stoked, actually, I haven’t been back in a while.”

“You’ll be back for Sunday night, though, right?” Harry asks, tapping their feet together under the table. “You know. For dinner.”

“Obviously,” Niall says, and winks at him when Louis turns away to stick his tongue out at Zayn.

After dinner, Zayn and Louis take the bottle of wine to the living room (under Liam’s supervision) while Harry and Niall wash the dishes. Every so often Niall leans a bit too far into Harry’s space while trying to place things in the drying rack, and every so often Harry stops him halfway with a kiss. At one point, Niall drops his towel entirely and presses Harry back against the counter, licking into his mouth - but they’re interrupted by three yells from the next room, and Liam dashing in to grab a handful of napkins.

“There may or may not be a stain forming on your couch,” he says in a rush, “and Louis wants you to know that it wasn’t his fault.”

Harry looks at Niall, who shrugs and kisses him again. The water in the sink is nearly cold by the time all the dishes are washed.

\--

It happens a day or so later, when Niall comes over again and together he and Harry steal Louis’ Xbox out of his room. They sit cross-legged on the living room floor, close enough to the machine to quickly cover it if Louis were to come home, but far enough away so that Niall’s evasive maneuvers with his game controller don’t punch holes in the TV screen.

“I hope you’re better than this at _real_ football,” he says, clicking away until his player scores on Harry’s for the umpteenth time.

Harry, having accepted his in-game fate many goals ago, sighs. “Worse, actually.”

Niall snickers, but nudges his shoulder comfortingly. “We’ll play sometime, get you some practice.”

“I think it has more to do with incoordination of limbs,” Harry explains, and digs his elbow into Niall’s side. Niall squawks and rolls away across the carpet, dropping his controller in the process, and Harry takes the opportunity to kick the small onscreen football down the field.

Niall, however, pounces on him, holding him down and tossing his controller across the room. He gives a cry of victory and sits on Harry’s chest, grinning down at him.

“Get off,” Harry whines, but finds himself smiling despite the discomfort. He pushes at Niall’s shoulders. “You win, you are truly the master of... whatever that game was called.”

“You can do better than that,” Niall laughs, batting Harry’s hands away and pinning them by the sides of his head. “Come on, show me how bad you want me to let go.”

“I really, really, _really_ want you to let go.”

Niall shakes his head. “Show me, I said.”

“I _can’t_ ,” Harry huffs, kicking his feet. “If I could move my arms, it’d be a different story--”

The front door opens, and they both look up, startled. Zayn comes in, somewhat out of breath, and barely glances at the two of them on the floor before hurrying off to the kitchen.

“Do you still have that wine bottle somewhere?” he asks, and Harry can hear him opening and closing cupboards. “From Sunday night? I know this girl who likes to make candles out of them.”

“You know a girl?”

“Yes, Harry, I know quite a few girls.” Zayn comes back around to the living room and stops, hands on hips. “Anyway, I’m going for coffee with her in a bit, so I thought I’d do a quick search-- Don’t suppose Louis would have it in his room or something?”

Harry does his best to shrug from his current position, and Zayn moves off to Louis’ room.

“Is Zayn going on a date,” Niall whispers from above him, “with some weird art-student girl?”

“Made for each other,” Harry whispers back.

Zayn returns with the empty bottle in hand, but pauses just before the door and takes a deep breath. “I can do this, right?” he asks, more to himself than the room in general.

“Definitely,” Niall says, and Harry nods beneath him. Zayn turns to look at them properly, blinking like he didn’t notice them there at all. He looks, for a moment, like he’s going to ask what they’re doing, but seems to think better of it and slips out the door instead.

Harry hopes he doesn’t hear them burst into laughter as soon as the door shuts.

It’s a solid few minutes before either of them can speak.

“Fuck,” Niall manages in between gasps for air. “Fuck, that was the best. His _face--_ ” He dissolves into giggles, releasing Harry’s hands so he can wipe the tears from his eyes.

“I was half afraid he was going to whip out a pocket mirror or something,” Harry says, and Niall chokes, nearly setting off again. He leans down and presses his face against Harry’s shoulder, smothering his laughter there.

They quiet down, eventually, and just when Harry thinks they’re about ready to stand up, Niall nuzzles against his neck. “I love,” he mumbles, but the third word of the phrase is lost as his lips brush Harry’s throat.

“Um,” Harry says, and sits up.

Niall is pushed up with him, cheeks red, but he decidedly looks anywhere but at Harry’s face. “What, sorry?” Harry presses, trying to catch his gaze. “Didn’t quite hear you, could you repeat that?” He feels himself begin to smile, and Niall’s lips start to curve up as well. “I could’ve sworn you said ‘I love y--”

Niall kisses him before he can finish.

Harry can’t help the new laughter that bubbles up in his chest, even as Niall presses him back down to the floor and shifts back, sliding his hips over Harry’s. It sends a spike of heat up his spine, and Harry gasps against Niall’s mouth. Niall snickers and repeats the movement, slower, breaking the kiss and watching Harry’s reaction.

It’s quite nice, Harry thinks as his back arches off the floor. His entire body is tingling with a nervous sort of excitement, and his heart races in his chest. The thought of being with Niall - of being proper In Love with Niall - is one of the scariest thoughts he’s ever had, but also one of the warmest. It’s different in the best sort of way, and as Niall rolls the hips together, Harry can feel himself getting hard in his jeans.

“Stop,” he gasps out, and Niall immediately freezes.

Their heavy breathing sounds too loud, all of a sudden. Harry watches the blush rise even higher in Niall’s cheeks as he climbs off and lays down beside him, cautious. He waits until Niall meets his eyes.

“We’re not going to have sex on the living room floor,” Harry says. “Louis would kill you.”

“Only me?” Niall asks, indignant. “It’s a two-person job! And you know what they say.” He leans closer, smirk on his lips. “Ride together, die together?”

Harry chokes on his breath and Niall laughs, throwing one arm over Harry’s waist.

“Seriously, though,” he starts, when both have their breath back. “You scared me. I thought I was hurting you, or--”

“Opposite, actually,” Harry admits, blushing again. “But we couldn’t-- I mean, not in here.”

Niall raises his eyebrows. “Somewhere else, then? Maybe?”

“Maybe,” Harry agrees, grinning, and starts to get up.

Except, the front door opens again and Louis comes in, whistling. He drops his coat on the floor, as usual, and turns, and stops. Taking in the two of them sprawled on the floor, he narrows his eyes.

“I have the distinct feeling,” he says slowly, suspiciously, “that I’ve killed a mood.”

“Only a little,” Harry says, and Niall laughs.

Louis shrugs and slips his shoes off, then steps over them and sits on the couch. “So, Zayn made me swear not to tell,” he starts, putting his feet up on the coffee table, “but he’s got a date today. A proper one, even, with some girl from whatever class he has that isn’t the naked model one.”

“Really,” Niall says, lacking all surprise, but Louis keeps on.

“He was nearly shaking, the poor thing, all atwitter about the state of his hair and whether he should bring a jacket - I said, it’s not like there’s many puddles about for you to throw it over, so why bother? Anyway, it’s funny as fuck and I wish I had gotten photos of his face.” He sniffs, wipes away a fake tear. “Our Zayn is growing up, I’m afraid.”

Finished, he tilts his head back against the couch and heaves a sigh, closing his eyes. Harry takes the opportunity to start to crawl out of the room, Niall at his heels.

“Also,” Louis says, without opening his eyes, “my Xbox had better be back in my room within twenty seconds or you will pay with your lives.”

“What.”

“Louis, you can’’t--”

“Nineteen seconds. Eighteen. You should probably leg it. Sixteen. Fifteen...”

\--

_From: Niall_  
 _ > So I’m catching the late ferry tomorrow night_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > Agghhh I forgot._  
 _ > What will I do for the whole weekend?_

_From: Niall_  
 _ > I’m 50% sure u know other people_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > Lou will probably get me drunk or something._

_From: Niall_  
 _ > Without me ??? I am hurt_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > We’ll go out again when you get back, don’t worry x_

_From: Niall_  
 _ > Gooooood_  
 _ > Can I see you tomorrow though like before I go_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > Yeah, I’m returning textbooks in the morning, but you should come over early anyway._  
 _ > We’ll have the whole day. x_

_From: Niall_  
 _ > Aaacceeeee see you then !! Xxxx_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > Goodnight .xx_

\--

Harry leaves the house reluctantly the next morning to deal with his textbooks, but does so as fast as he can. He’s eager to be at the door when Niall arrives, so that he can be with him for the longest possible amount of time before he heads off.

A weekend apart seems like ages - or maybe even longer, since the living room floor happened. Harry’s face goes pink at the thought, even as he speed-walks home.

He reaches the front door and stops, heart pounding. What if Niall is already inside, having arrived while he was gone? Harry decides to open the door as quietly as possible, just in case - that way, he’ll have a moment to compose himself, or at least try to calm the impossibly wide grin that’s taken to his face.

The hinges decide not to creak as he pushes the door open. He hopes his breathing isn’t as loud as it seems.

Niall’s shoes are resting on the floor next to Louis’, and Harry’s heart does a happy jump in his chest. He puts his bag down, silently, and slips his own shoes off, then moves to close the door - but pauses, listening.

“--in the bathtub, I swear on my life,” Louis is saying in the kitchen, and Harry hears Niall laugh. He knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but they seem to be getting along, and his curiosity for Louis’ true opinion of Niall keeps him quiet. Whether he has Louis’ approval or not wouldn’t be something he lets affect himself and Niall, but it would be nice to have it anyway.

“Yes, our dear Zayn does most of his deep philosophic thinking there, don’t you know,” Louis continues. “Coincidentally, it’s also where he goes to mope, and to plan romantic evenings.”

Niall snorts. “He has to have a bath to think of how to take a girl out for coffee?”

“Art students,” Louis says sagely. “The greatest mystery of our time.”

There’s a short pause before Louis clears his throat to say more. “Speaking of Zayn and his romantic endeavors and, by extension, everyone else’s... How are you doing?”

“I’m good,” Niall says slowly. “But what’s that got to do with--”

“With Harry, I mean,” Louis blurts. “Like, the two of you together. It’s been a couple weeks now, hasn’t it? I was just wondering, you know, since you two--”

Niall cuts him off with a nervous laugh, and Harry feels a chill run up his neck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says carefully. “Me and Harry, we... we’re just mates.”

Louis is quiet for a moment. “Oh.” He lets out a breath. “I’m sorry, I just. I thought that--”

Harry pushes the door shut, and the kitchen goes silent.

Louis hesitates for a few seconds, but comes out to meet him. “Hey,” he says, trying to sound cheery, but his smile doesn’t make it to his eyes. “Sorry to leave right as you get back, but I’ve actually got a thing with Liam today.” He glances over his shoulder to the kitchen. “I should’ve gone earlier, but I figured I’d keep Niall company until you got here.”

“That’s fine.” Harry follows his gaze to the doorway. Niall still hasn’t come out. “I’ll see you later, then. Tell Liam I said hello.”

Louis takes a step towards the door, but turns back with a pained expression. “Harry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Harry tells him, but Louis grips his shoulders.

“It _is_ , though. You and Niall--”

“--are just friends,” Harry finishes, smiling weakly.

Louis shakes his head. “But I thought,” he tries, swallows, starts again. “I thought you two were...”

Harry pries Louis’ hands off his shoulders, gripping them in his own. “Louis, please,” he whispers, meeting his eyes. “Please, don’t.”

Biting his lip, Louis nods and steps away, and Harry drops his hands.

“Have a good time with Liam,” he says, and Louis smiles weakly at him before slipping his shoes on and leaving. The flat goes quiet again.

Harry pads into the kitchen and tries to smile when Niall looks up at him.

“Hi,” he says, half a whisper. Niall nods in return, like he’s afraid to disturb the silence.

Harry beckons him over to the couch and they put a film on, but neither pays much attention to the TV screen. The way they sit, untouching, is too distracting.

Niall wrings his hands in his lap and doesn’t glance up when Harry’s gaze drifts to him. Harry’s not sure what even happened, really - one moment he was slipping in, eager to surprise Niall with cold nose against his neck or cold lips against his mouth; the next he felt as if his heart were dropping through his ribs.

As the credits roll, Niall takes a breath and turns to him, and Harry’s hope rises for a moment.

“I think,” Niall says, too quiet, “I should go.”

Harry nods and doesn’t count the steps Niall takes to the door. Yes, it’s probably for the best - Niall has a ferry to catch, after all, and Harry has seen him before his departure as they agreed. There’s nothing else his friend asked of him, not a shared meal, not a farewell-drink, and certainly not a goodbye-kiss at the door.

Harry jumps a little when it clicks shut.

Now alone, he turns the TV off and stands up to survey the damage. There isn’t any. He wonders if the way he can feel his heart in his throat counts.

Harry had always thought it a good thing that he was so proficient at pointedly ignoring everything else when something needed to get done. Now, though, with only one thing in need of being ignored, the skill doesn’t quite go in reverse. He can’t possibly get rid of everything connected to Niall, can’t remove every item that would cause thought of him - but how else can he find peace and quiet?

He realizes, with a choked laugh, that there are remarkably few spaces in the flat that he did not share with Niall. His own room, with comfort of bed and pillow and blankets to hide under, is not one of them.

His stomach turns and he stumbles his way to the bathroom, collapsing to his knees and dry-heaving above the toilet. He must’ve done something wrong to make Niall not want him anymore -

Or maybe he had never wanted Harry at all.

\--

Hours later, he’s dimly aware of the front door opening and closing, and of two sets of feet wandering the hall.

“Harry?” Louis calls, timid. “I’m back, Liam’s here too. Did Niall go home? Where are you?”

There’s footsteps near the doorway, and then someone is gasping, pulling him upright, resting his back against the cabinets below the sink. “Louis, in here!”

Harry opens his eyes as Louis dashes in, and both he and Liam crouch in front of him. Louis touches his cheek, turning his face from side to side.

“He’s not hurt,” Liam murmurs. “Not that I can see, anyway.”

“God, Harry,” Louis breathes, dropping his hand. “What happened?”

Harry swallows, shakes his head. Louis’ expression darkens. “Did Niall do something?”

“No,” Harry chokes out. “We watched a movie, and he left. That’s all.”

“You’re literally shaking,” Louis says, and touches his face again. “Have you been crying?”

Harry bats his hand away, glaring. “There’s nothing to cry about.”

Louis watches him for a moment, then sighs. “Liam, can we have a minute?”

Liam nods and leaves the tiny room, and Louis shifts over to sit beside Harry.

“You two didn’t talk about this at all?” he asks quietly.

Harry shrugs, then shakes his head. “We just... it happened.”

“Well, this sort of relationship--”

“We’re not _dating_ , Louis,” Harry snaps. “Stop treating this like a breakup, he was never- never--”

He can’t quite take a full breath when he thinks about it. He gasps for air and Louis puts his arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close. “Shhh, Harry. Breathe. You’re okay.”

“He--” Harry takes a deep shuddering breath, clenching his shaking hands into fists. “He doesn’t love me.”

Louis’ eyes search his face. “He used to, though?”

“I don’t know,” Harry says, and takes another breath. “I don’t know, I can’t--”

“If you’d gotten home a bit sooner, you would’ve heard,” Louis says softly. “I swear, Harry, he said your name with such _care_.” Harry uncurls his fingers. “And even how he reacted whenever either of us said it - his entire face lit up.”

“But he doesn’t,” Harry says again, shaking his head. “He doesn’t.”

“Harry.” Louis waits until he meets his eyes. “Do you love him?”

A long moment passes, and Harry nods.

“Alright, then.” Louis pats him on the shoulder and moves to get up. “Liam, could you call Zayn? Get him to bring his car around.”

“Um?” Harry grabs his hand and pulls himself to his feet. “Why? What’s happening?”

“You’re going to take a shower,” Louis says, stepping out of the bathroom, “because you look like you need one. And then we’re going to drive to the ferry terminal and have a long-overdue conversation with Niall.”

“Even just from here to the terminal is like, a four-hour drive,” Harry splutters.

“Listen, Harry,” Louis sighs, “I figure I’ve got to do one massively stupid thing for love in my lifetime, and this is it.”

Harry blinks at him, and Louis rolls his eyes. He picks a towel off the back of the bathroom door and throws it at Harry’s head. “Brush your teeth, too. And pack a granola bar. You owe me big time.” And he closes the door, leaving Harry clutching a rumpled towel and feeling his hopes rising once more in his chest.

\--

Zayn’s car is small but not cramped, but even so Harry is grateful when, partway there, they pull over to stretch their legs - and, in Zayn’s case, to snatch the map away from Louis and turn it right-side-up. Louis sticks his tongue out and joins Harry where he leans on the trunk of the car.

“Not too much longer,” he says brightly, but frowns when Harry doesn’t react. “Hey, I’m trying to make you smile. Look at me, at least.”

“Sorry,” Harry sighs. “It’s just... what if he’s already left?”

“Then I will personally swim across the Irish Sea and drag him back,” Louis says with a grin.

Harry does smile at that, and Louis slings an arm over his shoulders. They sit quietly for a few minutes before Louis speaks up again.

“I just want you to know,” he says, soft, “I wasn’t trying to, like, pry. When I asked Niall about you and him.”

“It’s okay,” Harry starts, trying to cut him off, but Louis shakes his head.

“It isn’t, though. I assumed you two had figured everything out.” He pauses, searching for the right words. “It’s just, you work so well together. And I wanted some sort of insight, I guess.” He glances over his shoulder, and Harry follows his gaze to where Liam is helping Zayn sort out the map.

“I really, really don’t want to screw this up,” Louis whispers, turning back. “Like, I really, really, _really--_ ”

“You won’t,” Harry interrupts, poking him in the ribs. “He was willing to come along on the Something Dumb for Love quest. He’s stuck with you.”

Louis lets out a long breath and nods, glancing back again. “Let’s get back in the car, yeah?” he says, standing up and pulling Harry with him. “And I’ll give up my passenger seat privileges for you. Just this once.”

Harry is completely okay with letting Louis take his place in the back for the remainder of the drive, and definitely doesn’t exchange gag-faces with Zayn when he sees Louis’ hand on top of Liam’s resting on the middle seat between them.

\--

It’s dark by the time they reach the ferry terminal, and the four of them jog across the dimly-lit parking lot and into the main building.

“Liam, go charm the lady at the counter,” Louis commands as soon as they step through the main doors. “Zayn, you and me will take out the security guy, and then Harry will book it and find blondie.”

“No one listen to Louis,” Zayn instructs, and leads them calmly through the main entrance and into a waiting area. Harry immediately starts to look around anxiously, eyes flitting over every unfamiliar face.

“So, Harry,” Louis says suddenly, grabbing his arm to get his attention, “what’s the first thing you’re going to say when you see him?”

“Haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” Harry answers, shaking him off.

“Well, you’ve got a few seconds to figure it out.” Grinning, Louis points across the room.

Niall is there, leaning against the wall with a small duffel at his feet, eyes downcast. Louis prods Harry until he starts walking, but Niall doesn’t look up until Harry’s feet are nearly in his line of sight.

“Hi,” Harry manages, and only wants to punch himself a little bit.

“Hey,” Niall says slowly, holding his gaze. “What are you doing here?”

Harry glances back at the other three, who all wave. “There was an intervention, of sorts,” he explains. “We need to talk. Unless you don’t want to, I mean, and if that’s the case then I’ll just--”

He stops when Niall steps forward and wraps his arms around him. Harry returns the embrace automatically, and feels the tightness in his chest dissipate some.

“I was worried you were already gone,” he mumbles into Niall’s shoulder.

Niall laughs against his neck. “I couldn’t bring myself to get on an earlier boat.” He pulls back, but doesn’t let go. “We _do_ need to talk, though,” he says. “Or, really, there’s things I need to say.”

Harry nods and lets himself be led through a sliding door to a small seating area outside, sitting down beside Niall on a wooden bench. The bright light above the door shows Niall’s troubled expression, and Harry takes his hand. Niall squeezes his fingers.

“I know we weren’t just friends,” he says quietly. “It’s always been a bit more than that, I think.”

“How much more?” Harry asks, and Niall smiles weakly.

“More than I deserve, probably.” He tries to tug his hand away, but Harry holds on. Niall pauses, takes a breath. “When Louis asked me about you, I freaked out. The thought of being - being _with_ you.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t let myself think about it, even after what I said when we were, you know, on the floor.”

“I remember, don’t worry,” Harry says, and they both laugh. Niall slides closer on the bench, turned in towards Harry.

“It was too massive to figure out on my own,” Niall continues, quieter. “And I didn’t know if you wanted to be anything else than what we were? Like, kissing on your couch and stuff. Sleeping close. I didn’t want to ruin it by saying anything dumb.” He looks down. “Turns out I did anyway, I guess.”

Harry leans his head on Niall’s shoulder, letting him take a moment to find his words again.

After a deep breath, Niall goes on. “I think I meant it, though.” He links their fingers together. “What I said. Not to Louis, but before.”

Harry lifts his head. “That you love me, you mean,” he says, and Niall nods, a blush and a grin creeping onto his face.

“I’m like, ninety percent sure.”

“Only ninety?”

“Well. Ninety-nine, at least.” Niall leans in, presses their foreheads together. Harry closes his eyes and breathes out.

Minutes pass, and eventually, a loudspeaker beeps and says that passengers can begin boarding. Niall sighs and pulls away, standing up, and Harry jumps to his feet beside him.

“I do, you know,” he says, and Niall raises his eyebrows. “Want to be more than... whatever we were. I mean, if you still do.”

“You could’ve said that a bit sooner,” Niall laughs, and throws his arms around his shoulders in another tight hug. “I’ve been here all afternoon, and you choose five minutes before I leave to tell me--”

Harry kisses him to shut him up.

\--

All four of them see Niall onto the ferry, and Louis’ grin rivals Harry’s as they walk back through the entrance. “Maybe I’ll do dumb things like this more often,” he muses when they get back to the car.

“Maybe next time I’ll make you drive yourself,” Zayn deadpans, but Louis ignores him.

The drive home is quieter, Liam having taken the driver’s seat after the first half hour, and Harry still in the passenger seat. The other two are dozing in the backseat. Harry can’t seem to find sleep, even as late as it is, and so settles for staring out the window.

Liam glances over worriedly more than once. “You alright?” he asks at one point, careful and quiet.

Harry nods, smiles at him. “I’m okay. Just glad everything’s good again.”

He pauses, watching Liam’s gaze shift up to their sleepy passengers in the rear-view mirror. “Sorry for getting you dragged along,” he says. “I know you and Louis had plans earlier.”

“It’s fine,” Liam tells him, face going a bit pink. “I told him, actually, that he didn’t have to stay out with me if he was so worried about you. I’d rather everyone be safe, you know?” He glances again at Louis. “He’s like that too, wanting his friends to be safe. I admire that, how much he cares for the people he loves.”

He looks over his shoulder, as if the mirror reflection wasn’t quite good enough, and smiles fondly at Louis. Harry makes a mental note to thank Louis for bringing Liam to them.

\--

_From: Harry_  
 _ > Are you on land yet?_

_From: Niall_  
 _ > Yesssss I’ll be over soon_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > Arrrrgh_  
 _ > You said 4, it’s almost 5._

_From: Niall_  
 _ > Theres a thing I had to do first ! Dont worry I’ll be there_  
 _ > PROMISE XXXX_

_From: Harry_  
 _ > Fiiiiiine .xx_

\--

“Took you long enough,” Harry calls from the kitchen when he hears the door finally open and close. “The others are here already - well, they were, but they went to the liquor store.” He takes five plates down from the cupboard and places them on the counter. “Zayn and Louis to look for wine, Liam to make sure they don’t spend Zayn’s entire paycheque. How are you, though?” he asks, turning around, and Niall is there, standing in the doorway in shorts and no sleeves as usual.

He doesn’t say anything, just strides across the kitchen and presses Harry back against the countertop.

“That good, huh,” Harry laughs, and Niall kisses him hard. There’s a lot of tongue and a lot of teeth, but Harry figures that it’s nice enough, after a weekend apart.

He pulls back, though, only after a few seconds. “Something’s weird,” he says, narrowing his eyes. Niall smirks at him. “Not bad-weird, I mean, but... weird.”

Niall shrugs and drops to his knees, shuffling forward to place his hands on Harry’s thighs. “When’ll the boys get back?” he asks casually.

Harry blinks down at him. “Fifteen, twenty minutes?”

“More than enough time, then,” Niall says, and grins up at him.

Oh. Harry blinks again. _Oh._

“You got your braces off,” Harry says, a bit breathlessly, as Niall undoes the zipper on his jeans.

“I did.”

“Is that why you’re late?”

“It is.”

“Oh.” Niall pulls Harry’s jeans and underwear down around his thighs. Harry swallows hard. “So what’s this?”

“The fuck does it look like?” Niall laughs, glancing up at him, then takes Harry’s cock into his mouth.

Harry’s not sure what he expected to happen upon Niall’s return and their reunion, but it sure as fuck wasn’t this.

Niall swirls his tongue around the head of his dick and Harry gasps, bracing himself against the counter. He can’t take his eyes off of Niall, with his lips stretched around Harry’s cock and taking it deeper into his mouth. Harry wonders, briefly, where Niall learned to do this, but then Niall swallows, throat working, and Harry loses his breath.

“What the hell,” he chokes out. “We’re in the middle of the - _fucking_ \- kitchen, how is this--” He breaks off with a short moan and his hips buck forward. Niall hums around his dick and grips his hips firmly so that Harry can’t push into him, then takes him deeper, curling his tongue around the head again.

Harry whines, unable to stop the noise, and Niall looks pleased. He hollows his cheeks and sucks a little harder, and Harry grips the edge of the counter with white knuckles.

“Niall,” he gasps, warningly, but Niall stays put, and when Harry comes with a cry, Niall swallows around it and gets to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He zips Harry’s jeans back up and leans on the counter next to him.

“So?” Niall prompts, grinning at Harry.

Harry stares at him. “Some warning, maybe, would be nice?”

Niall shrugs and steps away, but Harry catches his arm to tug him back. “I think there’s enough time for me to, you know.” He pulls Niall closer, aligning their hips. “Return the favour?”

Niall just laughs and presses his lips to Harry’s.

\--

They end up at the skate park, after dinner, and Harry gets the weirdest sense of deja-vu as he climbs to the top of the halfpipe and sits on the edge, with Niall at his side.

The difference, of course, is that Niall leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek, and that Harry isn’t afraid to turn his face and catch Niall’s mouth properly. They break apart after a moment, and look out at the rest of the park, the expanse of buildings and darkening sky beyond it.

“What d’you see?” Niall asks, leaning back.

Harry shrugs. “It just makes you think about how big everything is. There’s so much out there, and we just have this tiny taste of it.”

Niall sits up, raising his eyebrows. “It’s not _that_ big,” he says. “I mean, you can bump into a guy on the street, and it’ll turn out he lived in your neighbourhood when you were a kid.”

“Yeah, but,” Harry counters, “you can also bump into a guy and then never see him again in your entire life.”

Rolling his eyes, Niall scoots closer and throws his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “You can also run a guy down with a skateboard,” he murmurs in his ear, “and next thing you know he’s kissing you in the bathroom during family dinner.”

“Sounds like a keeper, I’d say,” Louis announces, climbing up behind them with Liam and Zayn in tow. “Evening, lovebirds.”

“Like you’re any better,” Zayn grumbles, stretching out next to Niall. “I definitely saw you trying to use chopsticks left-handed, just so you wouldn’t have to let go of _someone’s_ hand under the table.”

“Ah, we’ve been had,” Louis sighs dramatically, turning to Liam with a hand thrown over his eyes. Liam smiles and shakes his head, prying his hand off and kissing him instead.

Harry grins and nudges Niall’s shoulder. “Lovebirds,” he says. “What do you think?”

Niall hums. “ _Tortolitos_?”

“ _Mi amor_ ,” Harry laughs.

“ _Corazoncito_ ,” Niall says, quieter, and bumps their noses together.

“There’s this thing called a bedroom,” Louis starts, but Zayn swats him in the back of the head, and Niall bursts out laughing as Liam tries to keep Louis from pushing him off the halfpipe entirely.

Harry looks out at the world beyond them and breathes in the night air, and considers that, maybe, he’ll be okay with not knowing just how very much there is. Maybe he can live with only this tiny bit before him.

And maybe, he thinks, as Niall takes his hand and grins, this small patch of the wide, wide world is all that he’ll ever need.


End file.
